The Life And Times Of Stiles Winchester
by Kendianna
Summary: A series of ficlets in which Dean and Cas find baby Stiles during a job, his parents stone cold dead from a monster attack, and decide to settle down and raise him as their own. Scott and Derek are siblings and Peter is their guardian. Sterek are established mates. There is a multi-chapter arc in the middle that is now completed. Ficlets will continue to be added.
1. stiles is lucky his name isn't chester

**This is the first ficlet, and while those that follow are presented in an order that i believe achieves the best flow, they can generally be read however you see fit. the kanima story arc chapters in the middle are clearly labeled, and can be read stand alone or as a chronological part of this fic. ****the final chapter is a reference and timeline. it's not necessary to read it, but i highly suggest looking it over, as it's rather detailed and informative about the headcanon werewolf dynamics and time frames that i adhered to when writing this, and will probably be helpful.**

_**(if you would prefer to skip the guide chapter, the gist of what i've done for this fic involves shoving dean and cas' entire storyline back eighteen years. after escaping purgatory and spending a year of hunting together, they find and adopt stiles and move into beacon hills to lead a quiet life. around the same time, the hale house burns to the ground, leaving peter derek and scott as the only survivors)**_

**As always, I'm sorry in advance.**

* * *

It was recess time and Vyacheslav Winchester was panicking, hidden under one of the metal park benches. He was pretty sure that the first day of kindergarten wasn't supposed to run like a bout of medieval torture. He'd tried telling the other kids how to pronounce his name, he'd tried to get them to use his nickname Vacha, and he'd even tried to simplify it to Slava like his daddy called him. That awful Jackson Whittemore had taken it upon himself to encourage to other children to call him coleslaw. To his abject horror, it seemed to have stuck.

A gentle knocking was made against the seat of the bench with what sounded like a small hand. He looked up and found himself face to face with one of the boys from his class, the one that had seemed a little slow, but kind. He had gotten a taste of Jackson's mirth because of the inhaler he carried and frequently used. He had a dopey little grin on his face.

"Hi, I'm Scott. You know that you sit on top of the bench right?"  
"No way, seriously?" the boy looked at him like he was the stupidest thing on two feet, but then laughed, a merry chiming little noise "Dude come on, you're going to get sick sitting under there. My brother Derek says that only homeless people are allowed to go under benches, and that they leave their homeless disease there so hurry and get out up!" he had started out playfully, but by the end the boy seemed very serious, and though he was highly skeptical, Vyacheslav crawled out and joined him on the bench. Scott pointed at one of the big boys playing soccer out on the field "That's my brother Derek, he's kinda a jerk sometimes, but he's super smart!" He listened to the boy chatter for a while, and paid close attention to the older boy. His hair was black and, like Scott had attested, he had an air of instinct about him. It may have been because he was focused at his game, but he was quick and calculating, and Slava could see that he played intelligently. Of course moments later he was tripping over his own feet, and they both giggled at that.

Scott turned to him "So what's your name again? I know it's hard to say, but I want to be friends so I need something to call you" They shared small but happy smiles "It's VEEA-CHEH-SLAH-VAH" Scott mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like coleslaw, and looked rather sheepish "No maybe try Vacha" This Scott could handle, but it sounded ridiculous coming from his mouth "Okay it's just weird when you say it. Try Slava. It's just SLAH-VAH" again this sounded absurdly silly coming from the young boy's mouth, and both boys sighed, becoming disheartened "Well, before I was adopted my last name was Stilinski. How about you just call me Stiles?" Scott said it and beamed at him. For the rest of the day Scott and Stiles had both used his name like they were trying to wear it out. Their teacher was secretly pleased that he'd found something easier to be called, and Jackson still called him coleslaw, but he had a brand new friend and his prospects were looking up.

When school let out that afternoon, he ran to the front where his daddies had said they would meet him. It was only a few minutes later that the shiny black impala, old but still in impeccable condition, pulled up to the sidewalk. Castiel, from the passenger seat, puled him over his lap and sat him down in the middle. The boy cuddled into his side, and they each wrapped an arm around him. As Dean pulled her out of the parking lot, took a moment to fluff his hair and ask about his first day. Cas pitched in as well, they were eager to hear about his teachers and classmates and any friends he had made. And he smiled, because he had a good story to tell and another good day to look forward to tomorrow.


	2. a most ancient and sacred treatise

It had been startlingly obvious that something was different about Vyacheslav's - _Stiles'_ - new little friend and his brother. Dean had called in Sam and Bobby, preventatively he hoped. He certainly didn't want to have to exorcise a pair of schoolchildren, especially ones his son liked. But he was incredibly unsettled nonetheless. Beacon Hills had been so blessedly wonderfully normal. No EMFs, no history of gruesome deaths or killings (which was surprising given the region), no records indicating anything mythological or ancient or native american or magical. It was supposed to be just another little town. So he decided to play things by ear and see if he was right before he jumped to conclusions.

It had all started about a week into kindergarten. Slava - _Stiles_ - (that was really going to take some getting used to) had yet to shut up about his new friend Scott and his older brother Derek, and Dean and Cas had yet to meet either of them. Scott, from what they had heard, could supposedly see and smell better than anyone else; if the tales were true, his ability to tell what flavor of juice and type of snacks they were going to have before they were brought inside the classroom, was approximately 98% accurate. And Derek, though occasionally clumsy, had shown off some kind of flipping soccer move to the boys that, when described by young Sla- _Stiles_ - had sounded borderline physically impossible. Cas had assured him that the movement, if it had been accurately described, was not within a human's potential.

So, suspicious but hesitant, Dean had told _Stiles_ to invite his little friend over after school. The boy had been thoroughly ecstatic. Dean didn't feel very manly about how nervous he was as he and Cas waited all day. They had both been jumpy, and were glad for the distraction when Sam and Bobby arrived around noon. An hour or so later Sam had gone to pick _Stiles_, surprising the boy and making him even more exuberantly happy than he had been. Scott would be over later, driven and dropped off by his guardian. Dean had suggested this as a gesture of parental mind easing, only the worst sort sent their children off with strangers, but it was more truly an attempt to get a go at the adult before they went witch trial on the child (and again, he really really didn't want to have to do).

And he was glad he had. From the moment the old bently pulled up to the curb, Dean had practically been choking back the urge to put a clip in Peter Hale. Waves of serious cujo mojo rolled off of the guy. Although Peter was undoubtedly non- human, one look at Scott told him that the young boy was almost certainly harmless, and he sent them off to play whatever it is they were going to play out in the back yard. Bobby glanced between the two, and took off out after the boys after muttering something about adult supervision.

Which left Dean, Cas, Sam, and Peter in the foyer. They stood in awkward silence. Cas began to fidget and then suggested they all head to the kitchen for a cup of something. They followed him wordlessly. Cas forgot himself, and when they reached the table all of the chairs pulled themselves out. Peter raised an eyebrow elegantly, and swooped down into one, crossing his legs. He gestured, rather magnanimously for being a houseguest, that they sit "Let's cut to the chase here gentlemen" the amused smile vanished from his face "This is obviously a den of hunters, and I am obviously a werewolf patriarch" he growled low in his throat "and I would hope that you wouldn't be stupid enough to think that you could stoop so low as using children in your war against us"

Dean felt his mouth gape open, and he and the others sat heavily. He swallowed thickly and a glass of water appeared on the table before him, he threw an appreciative glance at Cas and then turned back to Peter "Mr Hale I think we've got a serious miscommunication going on here," he brought one hand up to scratch at the back of his head "Umm we didn't actually know you were a werewolf, and for now we don't really care. Castiel and I have been raising Slava since we found him as an infant. He's our son and we wouldn't ever use him like that" He nodded towards Sam

"This is my brother, and we've been hunting together since we were as young as the boys out there, dragged into this life by our dad after our mom was killed by a demon. Since then we've fought heaven and hell, died more times than I can count, averted the apocalypse, and sent an army of leviathans to purgatory. Castiel and I have done everything we can to start a normal life. Surely you can understand how we might be concerned when our son started describing his new friend's supernatural powers?"

Peter's eyebrows were again raised "Purgatory you say? And Heaven and Hell? Excuse me if I find it unlikely that backwoods hunters such as yourselves have had the-" A sharp gust of cold wind blasted through the kitchen, rattling the door and windows. Everything was windblown except Cas, who stood and stared into the wolf's eyes, which widened. A harsh black shadow stood out against the kitchen and the rustling of heavy wingbeats was heard. He raised two fingers to Peter's forehead, who flinched slightly but then calmed and stared them all in awe. Everything settled, the wind died down, and Dean muttered something about showoff angels. Huffing out an incredulous laugh Peter placed his hands on his knees and leaned forward in his chair "Care to make a treaty?"

The peace writs read like this:  
_And so do all partief, Hunter Dean Winchefter, Angel Caftiel, and Wolf (Patriarch) Peter Hale, withe the mutual intentionf of refpect and friendshipliness, do agree to keep about peaceable termf and alliance. To the Hunter Winchefter and Angel Caftiel and their childe, eafement shall be granted into the forest demesne of the Wolf Hale. Equal eafement shall be granted unto the Wolf Hale and his childrene into the House of Winchefter._

It had many many more verses regarding over fifty specific possibilities of different causes and courses of action to be taken in the case of war. The sheer amount of articles and subarticles on the subject of treachery and deception had left Dean's head spinning. But Peter had insisted upon tradition, and so Cas had insisted on having a second copy written in enochian and signed in blood. He assured them that it read funnier than Tina Fey's Bossypants, which garnered odd looks and a fond snort of laughter from Dean. Stiles and Scott continued their raucous play, and never did find out what had occurred in the kitchen that day. It had been suggested by Bobby that perhaps they would follow it's rules more to the letter if they were of the opinion that it was both ancient and sacred and had been written eons before their time. Needless to say, like most youths interpreting a set of arcane and strict rules, they saw it more as a guidelines.


	3. a clusterfuck of the emotionally inept

There was silence for a moment, the fumbling curiosity and the slide of overeager hands weighed tangibly on the backs and necks of the two zealous participants. Finally one of the sweet intoxicating caresses developed an icarus complex, and moved too close to it's goal, resulting in the offending hand being grasped and pushed gently away. At the following whine, Stiles pressed an apologetic kiss to his lover's lips "Derek, we can't do this here, we can't have sex in my house. Or even anywhere near it. Not if we want to keep this under wraps. One of my dads is so battle hardened by death that he's on a razor's edge of awareness 24/7. The other is a preternatural angelic being. I'm actually surprised they don't know already. Cas probably does" He heaved a deep sigh and rested his forehead against Derek's "I'm sorry. I wish we didn't have to sneak around"

Derek gave an amused but somewhat self-deprecating snort "It's not your fault your dad hates me. I had to be the jackass that wolfed out and acted like a total dick when the hunter came to investigate" Stiles chuckled and rubbed their noses together "To be fair, it was his first inspection, and he had no way of knowing not to mention the Kate. I mean I know she was an evil crazy bitch, but before she went rogue they were friends - good friends. I'm pretty sure the Argents are one of his last ties to his dad besides uncle Sam and uncle Bobby" his tone had changed from playful to guilty as he spoke and Derek shushed him "Hey hey now, you don't need to feel bad about it. It may still hurt but it's not your fault what happened with your dad. He hates me for a good reason. For all I know he's right, I love you but…I probably shouldn't be anywhere near you"

Stiles frowned deeply at this and leaned forward to nip at his ear "Stop it, you know how I feel about hearing you talk like that. Besides, that little thing? May have stung for a while but god knows he's seen worse. I've hurt him worse during trainings and practice jobs and they haven't gotten rid of me yet. I don't think he hates you, he needs a lot of time to learn to trust people. He can't possibly hate someone I love so much" he brought their foreheads together again and they locked eyes "What do you think, big guy?" Derek made a soft contemplative noise "Well I guess we could try and wean them onto the idea slowly, you help get me on his good side and then we tell them both. It's not like this is romeo and Juliet here Stiles, we've been dating for like more than a year. I feel like you're right; they're your parents and they deserve to know" he brought his face down to nuzzle into Stiles' neck, and pulled his arms tighter around him. For a wonderfully happy span of eight seconds they were perfectly content and warm and blissful. Until the door flew open and Dean stormed in furiously, Cas right behind him looking rather sheepish.

"A year?"  
"DAD!" Stiles and Derek rushed to sit up, thankfully they were still fully clothed.  
"You little bastards have been dating under our noses for A YEAR?"  
"Well really a lot more like eighteen months, dad"  
"And you thought it'd just be cool to not tell us?-"  
"Well to be fair Dean, I knew "  
Dean whirled around "Hold it, you were in on this?"

Cas fidgeted awkwardly "They were happy. If anything had been amiss I would not have overlooked it, you know that Dean"

Dean gave an angry sigh and sat heavily in Stiles' computer chair, spinning around to face them again. He briefly pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, welcome to the Spanish Inquisition, kids. You're gonna sit there and feel guilty for lying to me and you're gonna answer my questions. And don't even think of telling me anything but the absolute truth, because horsefeathers over here is gonna play polygraph-"  
"Im not a-"  
"Just tell me if they lie okay Cas?"  
"Oh. Yes, I can do that Dean"

"Okay question one, Stiles…Slava"  
"Dad-"  
"Vyacheslav Winchestor"  
"Dad"  
"Slava…why did you hide this from us?" Stiles was about to snap out something about stubborn fathers, but he saw what Dean was trying to stow away beneath the surface. There was hurt on his face, and that was something his son was pretty much an expert at seeing. So he began tentatively, hesitant and gentle.

"Dad, how could I tell you? You hate him"  
"Since exactly when? I don't have anything against the guy except for finding him in my underage son's bed" he glared at Derek halfheartedly  
"What are you talking about you don't hate him?"  
"How could I be any clearer Slava, I don't hate him. Are you trying to make me out to be prejudice or somethin? You think I would hate him because he's a werewolf?" Stiles and Derek shared a bewildered glance

"Mr Winchester, we know you're not prejudiced but…I put you in the hospital. You were in traction for like three weeks. How can you not hate me?  
Dean was silent for a moment, then he spun around in the chair

"CAS" "Yes Dean?" "You been messin with my memories again?" "Only a little. For the greater good, and the happiness of our child" Stiles stood up, head shaking and arms flailing.

"Hang on so you don't remember at all?" Dean looked at him, and then stared askance at Derek suspiciously

"No, should I? What happened?" Stiles moved to sit on the ground next to him  
"Well, you went on an inspection call to make sure Derek was keeping up his end of your treaty. You mentioned Kate Argent, the hunter who burned down his house with his entire family in it, and said she was a close personal friend. He took it the wrong way, went nuts, and basically turned your chest into a pulled pork sandwich"

"And Cas, you erased this from my memory because?"  
"Their love was only just blossoming Dean, it had to be delicately nurtured. I didn't think they would hide it for this long, but to be fair they were discussing telling us when we came in"

"Okay, so why didn't Stiles realize that I had forgotten?"  
"I did it gradually,can you imagine how awkward it would have been if you had woken up with a wound you didn't remember getting? It wasn't gone from your mind until a time when it was appropriate to stop talking about" Stiles chuckled and muttered "Yeah dad like you're not the king of awkward" Dean shook his head wistfully

"Okay so that explains the giant scar on my chest. Moving right along. Derek"  
"yes?"  
"How old are you really. And I don't want the number on your driver's license"  
"Umm…ijustturnedthirtysevenlastweek"

A pause. Then Dean stood and stalked over to Derek, grabbing him by his shirtcollar and pulling him to his feet. When his voice came out it was almost a hiss "You're kidding. And you're dating my seventeen year old son?"  
"Dad come on he's emotionally twelve"  
"Can it Vyacheslav"

"Mr Winchester please, Stiles is actually kinda right"  
"What, that you're 'emotionally constipated'?" Derek blushed faintly  
"I…I wouldn't say constipated, but…Werewolves aren't human. We age and mature so much more slowly because we live longer. Especially born wolves. You're a hunter Mr Winchester, you know it's true. In wolf terms I'm barely a teenager"  
"Goddamnit of course I know that, but that doesn't change the fact that you're a thirty seven year old man trying to get with my son! You're more than twice his age and-" he was interrupted by a girlish squeal "BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM"

Everyone turned to glare at Stiles. Derek frowned and mouthed at him "Really Stiles?" Dean sighed again, ignoring Cas who looked blissfully happy, and was probably thinking something along the lines of 'he hasn't called dean daddy in years. such a precious child'. Stiles cleared his throat and stood, "what's being clearly overlooked is the fact that Derek and I love each other. Very much" he reached and took Dean's hands "I'm sorry we lied to you dad. You taught me better than that and I regret it. And I'm sorry he's a lot older than me, but I can't change that either. And I'm also sorry that Dad erased your memories but I wasn't in on that one so there's nothing I can do about that. It's just…you need to know that what we have is real" he backed away to stand by Derek and they clasped hands. Dean looked at Cas, who raised his eyebrows and nodded silently. He huffed on last time and when he spoke it was growley, but no one called him on it "You have my blessing"

Stiles jumped up and down threw his arms around Derek's neck and kissed him on the cheek, then ran over and did the same to Cas and then Dean. And to be fair, Dean stayed strong and silent right up until Cas turned to him and asked him if Derek was part of their ohana now. And then he shed several incredibly manly tears. And there was group hugging. And then from that point on they were pretty much all happy, even if sometimes Dean and Derek pretended to hate each other and be territorial. And no, thank you, Dean was so not ready to have the "gossip about our supernatural being boyfriends" conversation with his son. Though, bless him, that never seemed to stop Stiles from trying.


	4. kanima parts 1 & 2

**Kanima 1  
Living life in peace**  
The three remaining Hales remember the fire with varying degrees of accuracy and detail:

Scott of course was only a toddler when he had been carried out by his brother, stumbling and terrified and half choked to death on the heavy smoke. Having been a very young child, he remembered next to nothing but the sensory bits - shades of red and black, the snapping as beams split and warped and the merry crackling of the flames themselves, the uncomfortable heat encroaching upon him and growing in intensity, the sharp tangy smells of burning cedar and paint and fabric and electronics and skin.

Derek had been much older of course, nearing twenty, but somehow he recalled less. Only the overwhelming emotion and knee jerk physicality of his responses that night stayed with him - the inability to focus on anything but retrieving and removing his small charge from harm, getting him out into the freshness of the outdoors, and regretting not doing more - always such regret.

Peter remembered only rage and the hunt and glorious vengeance. The Argent woman's body was cold dead on the forest floor less than two hours after she had slithered away from her crime. Animals had feasted happily upon her remains. Her family never learned her fate, and sometimes Peter would take malicious glee in having postcards sent from exotic locales with hateful messages to the people who would always wonder what they'd done to provoke her. They missed her even when she sent them cards from Italy calling Aunt Mildred a ugly daft old cow.

They were the only three left of what had once been a thriving pack. Peter was the Patriarch to his brother's Alpha, offering wisdom and the occasional onslaught of blistering sass. So when he found himself alone, boundless his frustration most definitely was. _Twenty years_ until his nephew became alpha and they could start growing again. Every time Derek's eyes glowed fluorescent blue the alpha potential that they carried made Peter simultaneously furious and despondent. And then there was the matter of Derek being Scott's watchdog.

At the rate the child was growing, he knew he wouldn't be able to send the boy to school on time. And of course once he was there he couldn't hope to separate the two. Peter had seen enough pups raised to know that this one would be small and weak for quite an age before he was big enough to look six to human eyes. They'd probably have to wait until he was eight or nine to send him to kindergarten, and by then Derek might very well be on the older end of how young he could pass for. They would have to find a good K-12 school that both boys could attend. But the child was still a toddler, barely two, meaning that they had quite a while to wait. So, after an extensive remodel, they sequestered themselves away back in the Hale house and lived. For years they kept to themselves, kept away from town and other people. They had each other and that was all they needed.

During the morning until noon, Peter taught Scott about the world through stories. It would be suspicious if he knew reading and math going into kindergarten, but Peter held nothing back regaling him and sometimes his brother too, with stories of his decades walking the earth; his time with his pack and the years he'd spent traveling and exploring on his own. He told them about old Europe and the Far East, about watching the industrial revolution blossom into the technology age, about the American Frontier and the wars he'd seen and the people he'd met. And if Scott wasn't particularly bright, he at least grew to be a worldly boy. Peter taught him about society, how to act how to behave, what to do and what absolutely _never_ to mention.

In the afternoons he trained Derek. Runs and drills and sometimes games. Blindfolding him, Scott and Peter scampered off into the woods and dared him to find them, challenged him to beat his own time. They played wargames sometimes too, with paint guns and secret bases, and sometimes Scott switched sides and they ganged up on Peter, and sometimes no one knew whose side he was playing for - sometimes he was just the silly little wolf running around shooting at trees. But he grew and he grew, and he became strong and fast, and the games they played made him cunning. Though this was training all wolves went through, Peter and Derek knew it carried more weight.

The sons of the alpha, traditionally with a large age gap between them, held a special role. The eldest, on the night of his sibling's birth, became the watchdog. He protected and acted as a constant companion for his brother; their bond was nearly inseparable. When the watchdog reached maturity, he became the alpha. He led the pack until the day his younger brother was acknowledged as an adult wolf. The younger then became alpha and the elder stepped down to become patriarch, the figure that would guide and guard the alpha. Both roles came with great importance and respect. Peter had been his brother Michael's watchdog, and had taken over as his patriarch when he'd matured. They had led the pack together for nearly a century before Micheal's wife had given birth to Derek. And then in turn, Derek had been charged since the day of Scott's birth to protect him, a role he would never not feel the urge to fulfill. It was a full circle, and it connected and strengthened the pack, while keeping the balances of power even. The elders remembered their ruling days fondly, and the younger ones looked to them for wisdom. It was an ancient and ingenious system.

So, they had twenty years to wait until Derek would be alpha. Twenty years until he would be able to begin growing their numbers up again. And though Derek and Peter remembered well enough to fiercely miss the loud boisterous clanlike pack life they had once had, they came to appreciate the small quiet life they were building away in the forest. It was nice as well.

**Kanima 2  
But I'm not the only one**  
As he coughed on water and slipped from Stiles' grasp every few moments, he felt such an indescribably massive wave of guilt wash over him. Literally all of this was his fault. He tried in vain for a moment to brainstorm things that might not have been his fault about this situation. He could not think of anything. And no, he definitely wasn't just being down on himself or over self-critical. He had majorly screwed the pooch on this one, even if no one else was willing to say it.

As Stiles often laughingly reminded him, he was 37 years old - even if he was still on the last edges of being a wolfy teenager, he was in the body of a grown ass man. He had lived on the planet for almost four decades, and in just another few years he would rise as the alpha of their little pack. He should have known better. He should have been patient. There was a lot he should and shouldn't have done, but trying to start making new wolves early was definitely at the top of the list of things he should have avoided at all costs.

It had started with an itching, nagging sensation he had been feeling for months. He was nearing his maturity and the urge to grow his pack had started kicking in. In a moment of weakness he had bitten Jackson. When the bite hadn't taken, he assumed that it was because he wasn't fully an alpha yet, and brushed the boy off. Oh god how he wished now that's he'd tried harder, that he'd taken responsibility for the boy and taken him under his wing into the pack like he should have. Then maybe he wouldn't be paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water, Stiles holding onto him for dear life. He knew his boyfriend was exhausted, the strength was being sapped from his body exponentially quicker and Stiles wouldn't be able to keep them both afloat much longer. He had considered telling Stiles to let him go and conserve his own energy so that at least he would be able to save himself, but he knew that just hearing him say it would break the boy's heart. And that he would never do it. So he he did nothing but lay in Stiles' arms and listen to him quietly stress-babble, because there was nothing he _could_ do.  
_

Dean and Cas enjoyed the lacrosse games. They knew their son wasn't the strongest or the most built, but he was agile and clever, and he had been trained physically from a young age. They didn't want him in the hunter life, but they sure as hell weren't going to leave him unprepared for it. So even though he wasn't the star, he put on a good show. He scored incredible goals sometimes and he made unbelievable passes sometimes, but most of the time he just ran around, and they were eager to watch because it was something that made him happy.

But as they sat in the bleachers, they grew more and more anxious. The game had been over for quite a while, and though there were still people on the field and in the stands, they hadn't seen Stiles or Derek the entire game. The boys were starting to pour out from the locker room and neither of them were in the crowd. Dean had sent several 'stern and fatherly' text messages, all of which had gone unanswered, and their combined anxiety was becoming a nearly tangible presence that was putting other people off.

As the people milling about eventually started leaving, the rock in Dean's stomach grew in weight. He leaned against Cas, scooted around on the bench, crossed his arms, uncrossed them, stood up and looked around again at everyone whose face he could see, sighed heavily, and sat again. Cas tugged gently at his coat sleeve

"Perhaps he went home with a friend" Dean gave him a side eye  
"Without telling us?"  
"Perhaps he and Derek are sharing intimacies in the locker room"

"in celebration of their victory"  
"But Cas they weren't on the field. Ugh, I'm just gonna get up an-"  
his phone blasted crazy frog and he fumbled to flip it open  
"Slava where the _Hell_ have you-"  
his mouth gaped open and his breath caught  
"shut up and put the phone down okay- I- SLAVA I don't care if it falls in the goddamn water I'll buy you a new one just _keep swimming_ and we'll be right there"

He glanced at Cas "you hear all that?", and with a swift nod He grabbed his arm and transported them to the pool. Dean heard the hissing before he saw the creature. It was standing near the edge, it's claws out and slashing in the air towards his son and Derek, it's tail raised and swishing like a cat's. Cas stood between him and it, and it tilted it's head as if examining. It made no move to abandon it's post.

The boys were in the water panting and coughing and spluttering and Stiles had one arm around Derek and one arm raised high keeping his cell phone dry, and his legs were kicking frantically beneath him. Dean swore "Goddamnit Slava I said drop the phone. Get a better grip on your boy there he's slipping" Stiles wheeled around frantically to face him, and threw it at Dean, hitting him in the chest. He made a mental note to compliment his aim later, then turned to face Cas.

"Care to do something about the…I don't even know what that is"  
Stiles shouted over the sound of splashing and echoes "IT'S CALLED A KANIMA"  
Dean frowned "I'VE NEVER HEARD OF THAT WHAT IS IT?"  
"IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE A WEREWOLF BUT SOMETHING WENT WRONG"  
Dean took a moment to think "DEREK ARE YOU RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS THING?"  
His reply was a very meek "yes" that could barely be heard, and Stiles shouted over him "HE SAYS HE IS BECAUSE HE FEELS GUILTY, BUT HE'S NOT. IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. SOMETHING'S GIVING JACKSON AN EMOTIONAL BLOCK AND THAT'S WHY HE CAN'T TURN"  
"THAT THING IS _JACKSON_? JACKSON _WHITTEMORE_? THE BIGGEST PRICK AT THIS SCHOOL? YOUR SWORN ENEMY?"  
"YES, NOW OTHER DAD CAN YOU PLEASE WORK SOME ANGEL MOJO AND FIX THIS MESS?"

Cas nodded solemnly, and stepped forward to the Kanima. He held out his hands a gesture of non-hostility, and placed two fingers on it's forehead. Blinding white light shone out of it's eyes and scales melted away into soft human skin. Jackson blinked and yawned and shook his head, then promptly screamed and scrambled back, falling into the pool. Cas sighed and snapped, and all three wet boys flopped onto the poolside floor. He ran a hand over Derek's body and healed the paralysis, which was beginning to wear off a little already, and dried them both. He looked to Jackson, who looked absolutely terrified, and held hands up again "I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord, and I mean you no harm, child. You were corrupted. Your strong emotions blocked you from turning into a werewolf. That blockage has been purified. You are now one of Peter's wolves- No, wait" he stared at Derek "He is yours is he not?" He nodded a very small nod and leaned back into Stiles a little farther.

Dean gritted his teeth "A damn good explanation Slava, there better be a goddamn fantastic explanation for this" Jackson looked confused for a moment, mouthing 'slava' to himself, then laughed "I remember now, Coleslaw Winchester, the embarrassment of the kindergarten class. I can't believe we ever let you live that down" Stiles couldn't tell whose growl was louder, Derek's or his father's. Cas looked at him askance "that seems like a foolish and unnecessary thing to say to the son of the being that saved you from iniquity and almost certain damnation" Stiles snapped a photo on his, thankfully dry and healthy, phone of Jackson's face. It was circulating facebook within minutes, and the poor guy would probably never live down the image captioned "cool kid shits himself'. Stiles sighed and nuzzled against Derek on the poolhouse floor. He was probably grounded until he was thirty, and he was destined for a long and uncomfortable conversation in his very near future, but at least they were all safe. And Jackson had gotten told by his angel dad. Crises averted.


	5. kanima parts 3 & 4

**Kanima 3  
I hope someday you'll join us**  
They sat in the Winchester living room. Derek sat on the floor with Stiles nestled in his lap, arms tight around his torso. Everyone else rested on the sofa and armchairs. Jackson opened his mouth to snap out a remark and Derek _growled_ at him, which led to Peter glowering at Derek, which led to Scott whimpering, which led to Stiles giving Derek puppy eyes, which led to Dean glaring at everybody, which led to Cas making heavy fluttering wingbeat noises, which effectively stopped everything. Jackson stopped trying to share his opinions.

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to Derek "I'm glad this is resolved, but Derek I am surprised by the sheer level of stupidity it must have required for you to think that this would turn out well. I cannot believe you did this under my nose, and I cannot believe you hid this from me, and I cannot believe _myself_ not catching you. This was just..." he sighed heavily and crossed his legs the other direction "this does not put us in a good place with our allies, Derek"

Derek looked up with his mouth open in indignation "Dean and Cas are our friends! They would never stop us from growing the pack!" Peter growled and reached forward to tug brutally on his nephew's ear "You insolent, foolish pup! Of course we trust the Winchesters. But do you honestly think they're the only type of hunters in the world? Did you actually forget that there are men out there cruel enough and heartless enough and cunning enough to destroy entire families? That there are men out there who don't bat an eye at the thought of mercilessly slaying women and children and elders? That are eager and slavering to kill us and would do so without a moment's hesitation?" he gnashed his teeth loudly and Derek whimpered, completely cowed.

"We are a pack of three able-bodied men, nothing about us wins symphony - Scott is almost twenty, he is no child in their eyes and they will eagerly kill him. You and I though, we are their greatest threat and their most desired kill - a wolf on the cusp of rising into his role as alpha and a patriarch full of centuries worth of knowledge. Our friends may be good and kind, and they may even afford us sanctuary and alliance when it is necessary, but Derek literally everything about us is a target. The only reason we're not still in the middle of a mess trying to capture and contain the kanima is because of sheer dumb luck and the angelic powers of our good friend Castiel. You've drawn attention to us and now we are not safe, we are not hidden, and we can only wait for outside hunters to make the first move. You've hobbled us like prey, Derek."

His moved his hand to the back of his nephew's neck, and he pulled his face forward to press it into his shoulder, placing a ghosting kiss over the ear he'd twisted in his rage. He reached out with his other arm and Scott was there instantly. He sat up straighter and righted himself, amusement on his face when they leaned in on him in unison, one on each side and him in the middle. He sighed and looked sheepishly over at Dean.

"I'm sorry for the family drama outburst. Really though, we're not going to be able to stay under the radar much longer. And now Jackson is pack" He huffed and glanced appraisingly at the boy "Which I suppose is a good thing, didn't think we'd start branching out for another few years. Nice to know it's an option. But that's irrelevant_._ Aside from this _massive blunder_, we've done a damn fine job staying under the radar. If we can keep this incident contained, the only hunters that would be able to connect us to Beacon Hills would be the Argents. If they hear there's been activity it could give them reason to return. Do you have any knowledge of their whereabouts?"

Dean nodded "Last word I had from Chris was around the time you and I made our treaty. He told me that he had settled his family down into a town in Southern California" he locked eyes with Peter "After the fire he wanted to respect your grieving and give you some space. He was glad to hear that there was someone he trusted in the area after he left; someone to keep things under wraps. Little did he know we'd all become such _good_ friends. Nearly goddamned inlaws. So for now at least, I think I've got you covered if Argents get involved. I've been friends with Chris for damn near thirty years and I've never met a man with a better sense of judgment or one that sticks more loyally to his code," he leaned to rest his elbows on his knees, and Cas placed a gentle hand on his back.

He clapped his hands together and stood "But I can call him, and I will. If things are going down we all need to be on the same page. If I remember his code, you haven't broken it so long as Jackson willingly accepted the bite" he turned a somewhat haughty gaze upon the boy "Got anything you need to fess up before we all part ways? This is a speak-now-or-it'll-bite-you-in-the-ass-later type deal here kid, nothing to be ashamed of and nothing is worth the consequences of withholding information"

Jackson flushed a bright pink that made Stiles and Scott absolutely giddy with laughter until Peter sent them a harsh glare. He coughed "Umm...I think I may have killed some people" there were exclamations and general chaos reigned for a moment until Dean grew fed up

"EY, enough. Explain, kid"  
"When I was that lizard thing-"  
"The Kanima"  
"Shut up coleslaw"  
"EY"  
"Whatever, sorry-"  
"Apology accepted"  
"Slava you heard him, shut up"  
"_Dad_"  
"Don't _Dad_ me"  
Castiel raised two fingers, the room fell to silence  
"Continue, Jackson"

"Ookay…well, I don't really have any memories from being_ the kanima_, but I know that I turned into it sporadically. Sometimes three or more times a week, and only ever at night. I would wake up covered in blood and it was never my own" he coughed lightly and wrung his hands "I mean, I hope I didn't kill anyone. I'd love to imagine that I didn't, but I'm pretty sure that I did. I must have"

Cas laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke to the room "I think Jackson may have been under someone's control, doing the bidding of someone we aren't yet aware of. There's just…there's more going on here than this," he locked eyes with the trembling boy and spoke more gently "Child, you are not a killer. Your body has been manipulated without your knowledge or consent, and someone has used it for evil purposes. You are not at fault"

Peter sighed "He's right. And now that the kanima is gone from you, your place is with Derek as his beta. You can still live with your family and go to school with your friends, but you must submit to him and become part of our pack, or fall into isolation as an omega. I say this because it would be best if it could be done in a controlled place, here and now being ideal" Jackson floundered, his innate cockiness long forgotten "How do I- what do I have to do?" Derek delicately moved Stiles off of his lap so that he could stand, towering high above them "Shift and bare your neck to me" he growled, his eyes flashing red.

Scott and the Winchesters watched with rapt fascination as Jackson swallowed audibly, standing but staying slightly hunched over. He squeezed his eyes shut and slowly lupine features took him over – hair meandered across his face and claws _shinked _out from his nailbeds, his nose widened and flattened against his face and his teeth sharpened and elongated. When he opened his eyes they were a startling electric blue. For a moment he struggled, a war within himself, and then his head was thrown back rather dramatically. Stiles and Scott would have giggled under any other circumstance. As seconds passed and Derek shifted, he brought his hand down around the back of Jackson's neck, pushing his head back farther. "You're pack now; I'm your Alpha, Scott is your packmate, and Peter is your Patriarch. Like he said, you can stay with your family, but you belong with us now"

Jackson fell to his knees, and Scott crawled over into his space. Ignoring the horrified look Stiles was shooting him, he nuzzled his nose into the boy's shoulder, grinning hugely "Dude, you smell like family!" Jackson looked slightly scandalized, but he put up no protest and leaned into the touch after a moment. Dean left to make his phone call, and Stiles dragged Derek up to his room to 'collect information about pack dynamics'. Scott and Jackson stayed on the floor, leaned up against the sofa, cuddling awkwardly. Cas vanished with a soft fluttering noise, muttering something about finding the Daehler boy. Peter slid down onto the floor and the boys moved over to pile onto him. A storm was fast approaching on the horizon, but for now the waters were calm.

**Kanima 4  
Nothing to kill or die for  
**Stiles and Scott enjoy nothing more in the following week than watching Derek drill Jackson relentlessly during training, and making sardonic quips from afar. When he has time Peter sits with them on the sidelines, occasionally piping up suggestions or barking orders, much less enthusiastic but still plenty amused. They spend their days at school feeling antsy and wishing they weren't there, and then Derek picks them all up in his Camaro and they rush as a unit to the Hale mansion deep in the woods, away from town and towards safety and familiarity. His gruff demeanor isn't enough to hide the fact that he's never happier than when he's in the presence of his brother and his mate and his fellow packmember.

When they arrive every day they find that Peter, Dean, and Castiel are already there. If they're not talking or visiting or relaxing in the lounge, they're in the study doing god knows what, huddled around papers and maps and whispering conspiratorially. None of them like it; they don't feel lied to but rather excluded. Something is happening, something big, and no one cares to keep them informed. So they train.

Scott and Derek have, of course, been trained rigorously since they were toddlers, and Stiles knows five martial arts styles and can work firearms almost better than his father. But Jackson, though physically strong and fast and possessing naturally excellent reflexes, has next to zero combat experience and a surprising lack of survival or wilderness knowledge for someone who grew up surrounded by forest. There is much laughing on Stiles' and Scott's part during the brief fire building seminar held in the middle of the driveway far from any natural kindling (foliage, underbrush, Stiles' jeep, etc.) and the only thing more hilarious than his inability to make the bone-dry twigs spring up into a blaze is the time he finally succeeds and catches one of his pantslegs aflame.

That's how they spend their days and evenings. And when Jackson grows frustrated with being tossed and beaten around, he grumbles and suggests using Stiles as their training dummy. On one particular day he says something especially offensive, unrepeatable of course, and there is a bullet in his left ass cheek almost before Derek actually starts growling at him. The much older werewolf in question glows with pride for his mate, until he realizes, as Jackson flounders on the pavement, that someone will have to remove the bullet and that that someone will have to be him. It's a bonding experience. Scott and Stiles have never laughed harder in their lives. They have their fun, they grow as a pack, they come to grudgingly like each other.

When they go still the next day during training, Stiles demands to know what they're hearing, what he's missing. They tell him that a car is coming down the old road through the woods. That's…well that's never really happened before, and it's definitely cause for concern. Peter lopes out of the house towards them, Dean and Castiel close behind, and though he says nothing, his levelheadedness calms them. A shiny red land rover pulls up in front of the house, and a man and a woman get out of the car. His face and his smile are kind but his eyes are keen and analytical, her eyes are wild and cold and somehow more animalistic than their own. They are wary of him, and terrified of her. Still Peter does not panic, and this keeps them steady. He goes forward to greet them, introducing them as hunters. Friendly hunters. Hunters that are here to help, apparently. The wolf boys hear Peter whisper under his breath, clearly only for their ears "_They're the Argents, they were informed of the incidents out of courtesy, and then insisted that they had to see for they're here just - try to behave"_. Though meant to calm, it only makes them more apprehensive. They don't like this; they don't like it at all.

As with many situations when visitors come to call, it takes an eternity and a half for everyone to meander inside and get settled into the sofas, and for the boys to be shoved into the kitchen to prepare coffee. Derek's eyes follow them as they scuttle into the kitchen, very clearly longing not to be an adult part of the discussion. Stiles grins and winks at him, and scampers to catch up with Jackson and Scott. They huddle in the furthest corner of the kitchen, momentarily basking in shared terror "What did Peter say outside? I know he told you guys something" Scott and Jackson share a look "They're here because they're being nosy. They're the Argents that your dad talked about" Stiles leans heavily against the wall "Well, shit"

A few minutes later finds them bringing out trays of coffee and cookies. After passing one to Derek (in what he knew was his boyfriend's favorite mug), Stiles makes to go and sit with his fathers, only to find Derek's hand clamping down around his wrist and his eyes puppy-dog wide and shiny. He chuckles and let's Derek pull him down next to him, sitting so close that their thighs and sides press together tightly. The conversation is still only just starting, and though their formal living room is large there are not quite enough seats, and Scott and Jackson end up on the floor by Peter's feet. They feel heavy gazes passing over them but know that Stiles is getting even worse, as they stare blatantly at him where he sits halfway in Derek's lap, and disapproval is clear on their faces.

The woman leans forward in her seat, hands in her lap gently cradling her warm mug "So Derek, are we correct in believing that this whole Kanima business all started because you tried to grow your pack early, before you'd reached maturity- before you were ready?" her question stings, as it is clearly meant to, and he holds back a growl. Stiles clutches his hand and it help center him, he smiles at her sheepishly "You could definitely say that Ma'am. As I near maturity, I feel many ancient instincts…you could say calling to me. Our pack is small and everything in me was telling me that it was my duty to change that. I never would have given in of course, had Jackson not come to me and asked. He's quite clever, and caught on to our…furry little secret…without having to be told" When her face becomes livid it makes her no less terrifying, and he fears for the chair's fragile arm in her grip. Her blazing red hair matches the wildfire in her eyes.

Nostrils flaring and eyes wide, it's astonishing that her words come out so civil "You make it so easy to discover your secret? How were you found out? And you boy, Jackson, what were your intentions in asking for the bite?" they bite like little papercuts, but are delivered in such a low throaty and almost seductive tone that the room wakes almost from a stupor after she's spoken them. Her man beside her has the grace to look sheepish, and rests a hand gently on her leg. Peter shakes his head and clears his throat "You're absolutely right Victoria, in that over the years we've been careless. Derek's gone to high school several times over so that he could stay with his brother and his mate, and we've stayed in this town for almost two decades while he's remained ageless. But you'll understand of course that this has been our home for generations, long before even I was born. We've had no interactions with hunters other than yourselves and the Winchesters for decades. We have grown complacent. But in the years to come Derek will grow into his role as alpha, and our pack will grow in number once again. We will turn only those who are fully informed and consenting, as has always been our way. Your thoughts?" Derek has never felt such pride for his patriarch, and as Peter sits and speaks like a fearless king, he has never respected him more. She appears to be taken aback, and does not respond for an awkward moment. Peter looks down to his feet "Jackson you did not answer, speak freely"

The boy looks up into his Patriarch's soothing gaze, and turns his head to catch sight of his alpha's approving nod "I only noticed because I was jealous, and because I was power-hungry. All year long I've been trying to be better at lacrosse than Scott, and I was sure that he was cheating somehow. I saw him practicing with his brother and Stiles after school one day out on the field and I thought Derek looked familiar. I looked him up in the yearbook and found out that he was a senior for three years, and a junior for three years, and a sophomore for three years, and was never a freshman. He was never in extracurriculars or sports and he never made any waves. Teachers came and went and he was always there. Sometimes he went through them in order and sometimes he just repeated years. He didn't stand out and I don't think anyone would have noticed unless they were as…curious as I was…" The woman arches like a cat, rolling her shoulders like a beast of prey "You went back to high school for nearly a decade? Why would you risk that? How could you possibly have done such a foolish thing?" Stiles winces and squeezes Derek's thigh, he doesn't need to see his face to know that he's already seething, that this woman is riling him up to the point of mania.

When he speaks, his words are surprisingly clear around huge fangs "You've lived here Argent. The school is K-12. My uncle has explained already. I stayed in school as long as I could so that I could be near my brother. So that I could be near my mate. You know our physiology, you know how strong the mate-bonds are. I could not stay away. Even now I stay here anxious and frantic and restless every day without him. I pace the floor and run through the woods and pine like a dog while my mate gets even smarter and learns so much and finishes his education so that he can have as many opportunities as possible. I spent ten years in high school so that I could guard and protect him as he passed through elementary school and middle school. I waited for him for ten years while he grew into a man, knowing he was my mate, my true fated lover and the walking embodiment of the other half of my soul. I volunteered in his classroom during high school free periods every single year of his education; I made macaroni art with him when he was in kindergarten and helped him learn how to read. I taught him his times tables and division tables and the square roots. I kept him company when the long years of middle school were lonely and harsh. I've been his friend and his mentor when he needed me the most, and I've never been away from his side when he wanted me there. He's known what I am and has been a member of my pack since he was five years old, and now that he's of an appropriate age I will continue to spend every waking moment of my life giving him nothing but the love and the devotion that he deserves. Don't try and make this something else in your head Argent, I've behaved myself and I've kept my head as low as possible. We're a barely-noticeable presence for good in this community and if you think for even _one second_ that-" he feels a harsh tugging on his wrist and looks at his mate to see his eyes watery and a bright flush spreading across his face he grins and clings to Derek's arm, holding it like a baby plastered to his chest "I think she gets it big guy. Let's keep this friendly, kay? Miss Argent, I know he seems like a growly angsty enigma, but really as you can see he's just a great big emotional hot mess. He's totally harmless. Uh, kinda. You know what I mean. Haha. Ha" he swings back around to face Derek and grins, eyebrows high and searching, and Derek can't help but calm down and let out a small noise of amusement.

On the sofa opposite, Dean shifts awkwardly, nothing in Derek's declaration of love comes as a surprise to him and it certainly doesn't make him uncomfortable. This may though be the most he's ever heard the man talk at one sitting. Castiel on the other hand, well Dean sees a truly wondrous look of joy on his face, of pride and of happiness. And is that - wow, Victoria Argent is smiling. That's equal parts reassuring and terrifying. Chris' mouth spreads into a much gentler smile, and whatever she is planning on saying is lost. She nods and purses her lips together tightly; she is still displeased, but for now she is appeased. Moments of silence fly past, and their opposing sides are forgotten. They drink their coffee, the young wolves on the floor, Peter in his armchair, Victoria and Chris on the loveseat, Dean and Castiel politely close on one end of the sofa and Stiles pulled into Derek's lap on the other. A weight has lifted from the room. There are no hunters or werewolves in the room, only friends and acquaintances.

Chris coughs somewhat demurely "Out of consideration of what we've heard here today, and my good friendship with Dean, I should probably tell you that we were only the first wave" everything tenses "My father is on his way"

Chaos


	6. kanima interlude

Castiel was in it up to his ears. Wait, elbows? Human idioms still frequently confounded him. Whatever the expression was, the headlice-gritty of it was that he was officially a secretkeeper. Kinda. He'd had experience keeping things before; bees, recalcitrant Winchester men, even his own child, who happened to lie at the epicenter of this secret. It was basically an open secret, and he wasn't the only one who knew, but he _was_ the one Derek had given it to in confidence. And that felt…indescribably nice. There was an emotion he did not quite have words for yet, but it was very good. Very, very good.

Castiel still wasn't sure why Derek had confided in him; they were still relatively new acquaintances. He had come to the house during the day with his Uncle Peter, a week after their initial meeting and the treatise had been crafted. Dean, Sam, and Bobby were all at the autoshop. He was alone in the house. When the door swung open before they rang it, he winced. They shared with him the trait of being utterly supernatural, yet unlike them he would never truly be able to completely mimic humanity. Peter smiled small and tight and with understanding as he gestured them into the sitting room.

Derek shifted nervously on the couch next to his Uncle, and Castiel sat like a marble slab across from them. Curious but still. Motionless and yet somehow so inhuman. Peter rested a hand on his nephew's leg and glanced at Castiel "Forgive his silence, he's terribly embarrassed" Castiel cocked his head to the side "I am trying to sense what you could feel shameful of, child, but I'm getting nothing. What can I do for you? Why have you come to see me? Speak freely"

A blush spread across his face and he coughed lightly "It's about your son, Vyacheslav" Castiel snapped to an angry attention and Derek sniffed the air in horror "Please don't be upset! It's…it's nothing bad. He's my mate" poor Derek's eyes bugged out of his face, able to smell the ions and particles moving through the air in a turmoil, where Castiel's wings would be beating madly if they were visible. Peter chose that moment to intervene "Please calm yourself, Mister Winchester, and allow me to explain for my nephew" his eyes bored into Castiel's like beams of light "Werewolves mate for life. We find one fated mate who is our companion and our lover. The one other in this world destined just for us. And when we find them we keep them, and we become their lives and they become our world. Your son Vyacheslav, _Stiles_, happens to be Derek's mate. Derek doesn't need much from the boy. Not yet anyways. He needs to be able to be close to him and spend time with him. That's all. Nothing untoward, and certainly nothing explicit. Derek's instincts, because of his mate's youth, will be geared towards nurturing and caretaking rather than any of our species more…carnal urges. He's already claimed all of the remaining volunteer slots needed in your boy's classroom for the rest of the year. Is it amenable to you that he should accompany Scott and Stiles during their playdates and studies?"

Castiel leaned heavily back onto the couch, overwhelmed and fraying at the edges somewhat . He gulped in a huge breath of air and closed his eyes briefly "It is…amenable. I see no problem with Derek becoming a sort of constant companion? Would that be a correct interpretation?" the boy nodded enthusiastically "And of course I will deal with Dean. He is stubborn but not unreasonable. Worry not. When Vacha is sixteen, you may court him romantically, if he will be receptive to it. Until then, consider yourself his nanny. I believe Dean would say Manny. Because you are a man and the occupation of nanny is traditionally a female role…Manny…yes. Well, werewolves and their mates…how fascinating. I will indeed need to research more about your kind" they stood to leave, and he ushered them to the door. Derek thanked him profusely "It's nothing. Well actually it is something. I suppose you will be my son-in-law one day. Hmm…well feel free to contact me with anything else" And they were gone as quickly and they had arrived.

And though he had many fine opportunities to tell Dean, he found himself avoiding it. He enjoyed having it. A little warm bubble of trust that someone had given him. Just him. Not Dean or Sam or Bobby, just Castiel. Not because of love or obligation, or even because of shared horrific life experience, but because he was trustworthy. He was a confidante. And he wanted to hold onto that little fluttering secret for as long as he could. He never he never expected it to hold onto him. Because as strong as the urge to keep a secret can be, sometimes the tables turn and it starts keeping you.

And so, approximately eleven years later he found himself in his son's bedroom, his beloved husband raging at Derek and Stiles, and he thought back on all of the times he could have, might have, possibly should have told him. And you know what? He still wasn't going to. They were the sweet young couple, and if they didn't want to admit to an already overbearing parent that they were starcrossed by the hand of god himself and bonded together more powerfully than any ordinary human lovers could even begin to imagine, then so be it. He'd kept the beans rattling between his fingers for so long, he wasn't going to spill them yet. As a cooperative parental unit, they had lived through a decade of Derek being the single most-frequently mentioned topic when it came to just about everything. If Dean hadn't caught on yet than maybe his keen hunter senses deserved the surprise they had coming. So he stood while Dean railed on them about age differences and werewolfishness and _my god they've been in a relationship for_ _how long now_, and if he intervened to fess up to the minor act of having erased a large chunk of Dean's memories to cast his son's lover into a better light, well all in a day's work.

As it would turn out, The privilege of the big reveal was snatched rather hastily from him. He had the inkling suspicion that Dean had maybe known for a while, and in the Hale sitting room across from Chris and Victoria Argent while Derek spun an otherwise magnificent and emotionally moving diatribe about their son, he felt Dean's fingers clutching his leg and knew that his suspicions were, as they occasionally happened to be when he engaged in social activity, incorrect. Though Dean's face was soft and happy at the discovery, he braced himself for what could be a loud and draining heart-to-heart later on, followed by predictably intense angry/makeup sex, and he smiled to himself. He caught Dean trying to hide eyes that were undeniably red and watery, and glancing at Stiles, found him to be blushing and teary eyed as well, with his hands over his mouth. The situation may have been a bit of a mess, but his humans, by god were they worth it all.


	7. kanima parts 5 & 6

**Kanima 5  
Above Us Only Sky  
**_Reminder: In this verse, Kate and Gerard Argent were responsible for the decimation of the Hale pack as a malicious war act made independently of any of the other hunters. It was generally received as a horrific and unnecessary act of insanity/cruelty by the rest of the hunter community, and the two are considered dangerous rogues except by other radicals_

A gentle electromagnetic pulse startled everyone into quiet. Castiel stood and addressed the room "We must stay calm. No offense to your personages Chris and Victoria, but we prepared for the worst when word came of your impending visit. News of Gerard's coming is all the more unsettling. We must be ready for any attack, and we cannot underestimate him or we will surely perish. We must take proactive and preemptive measures to keep ourselves as best protected as possible. Do you know when he will be here?" He turned a discerning eye towards Victoria and she stared back unwaveringly "He has been busy lately, but this matter has drawn his attention. At the earliest he will be here in a week, you may have a few days more than that, but I can give no guarantee. There is also a strong chance that they have rallied the other extremists. I don't know how many of Gerard's old contacts will still fight with him, but when last I was in charge of his affairs he still had at least ten that would travel any distance and fight any battle with him. Kate is no less beloved in that circle, and there is no knowing the numbers they may be able to assemble" she stood and Chris did as well, taking care to remain slightly behind her.

She glanced at Peter and then Derek and sighed very softly. The hawk like intensity melted away from her features "I see now that your pack is truly a peaceable one - and though I would sincerely hope that you conduct yourselves more carefully in the future, we have no conflict between us. Understand this though Hale, they may be mad and they may be cruel, but they are family and they are hunters. We will not raise arms against them. We leave you now with this news and we wish you…the chance to keep living your lives."

Her head jerked downwards in a pitiful imitation of a curtsey, but the message rang across loud and clear. They may not have the support of other hunters, but they would not be fighting a war on multiple fronts. They had, essentially, the blessing that they were in the right. They were the innocent party in this confrontation, and any action would be considered defense. It wasn't much, but it was meaningful, and the smile on Derek's face was genuine as he escorted them to the door. It closed and they drove away, silently to the humans, but loudly and intimately to the wolves. No one spoke a word until they were out of hearing range.

Stiles coughed awkwardly from his place on Derek's lap, wiggling slightly "So would I be correct in paraphrasing that down to the fact that we are now four werewolves, an angel, and two human meatsacks, up against an army of possibly twenty or more radical veteran terrorist no-rules hunters that are focused with a military precision on bringing about our painful and most likely exceptionally inhumane deaths?"

Derek stared at him with his mouth open for a moment, then seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say, looking to his uncle for confirmation. Who immediately nodded. Dean looked incredibly uneasy, and giving his mate a small sheepish shrug, Stiles went to sit next to him. They hugged a little bit. Everyone pretended not to notice for a few moments. This was a room in which only manly things happened. This was an incredibly manly father-son hug. Wartime transforms emotional rollercoasters into manly manfests of testosterone-laced broship. Eyes were averted. Swiping at the corner of his eye, Dean stood and cleared his throat.

"I liked where Cas was headed when he talked about defensive measures. This is nothing short of actual war we are about to embark into. I'm calling Sam and Bobby, and all the hunters I have alliance with from my glory days. Slava I want you training with your bow and crossbow and guns every day, and I want you doing runs and drills and physical training with the wolves; you are not a _meatsack_ and you are not going onto any battle field until I'm sure you're ready. Peter I would suggest that you look into contacting any other packs you know that bear grudge against Gerard or Kate." He sighed deeply and moved to stand next to Derek, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you had difficulty starting out, but you've proven that you can make new wolves. If it's something that your uncle is willing to permit, then I think you and the boys should find as many good candidates that will accept the bite as possible, and get to adding to your pack. I'm sure Peter has taught you and I'm sure you've felt the effects with Jackson already, but remember that every new wolf will increase the entire pack's power, especially the alpha. That's you buddy, and right now we need you as juiced-up and on top of your game as possible. You need to be the strongest you've ever been, the most agile, the most in control. That goes for all of you. As far as I'm concerned, we're about to have a real war on our hands, and death is not an option for anyone in this room. Okay, now scatter"

No one moved for a moment, then Peter pulled his cell from his pocket and hurried off to the study. They boys rushed out the backdoor in a frenzy, and raced each other to the training yard. Stiles ran around to the front to fetch his compound bow from the jeep. Alone in the sitting room, Dean plopped down heavily next to his husband, who grasped his hand tightly. He turned to look make eye contact "Cas baby, I think you might have the hardest job of us all. We're gonna need your angel mojo now more than ever, and quite frankly we've never really been clear about how much of it's left." Cas fidgeted under his gaze, and looked away. He was always incredibly uncomfortable discussing his grace.  
_

Over the next few days they moved quickly and they struck like lightning. Scott found them, and Stiles lured them in; he sweet talked them and made nice and explained every little detail that they might need to know, human comrade and voice of reason for when the wolf was revealed and they were asked to make a choice. Jackson was on the sidelines as the popular one that they could trot out if they needed any extra convincing factors. Derek was there at the end when they said yes, coming in the room silently and sitting down calmly next to Stiles. His job was to give off soothing vibes of gentleness and kindness and acceptance, to show a sweet face that wasn't their horrific nightmares of werewolves, a face far separated from anything they might imagine when they thought of the supernatural. He smiled more over the next day and a half than he ever had in his life towards anyone but his mate. Complaining about it only encouraged Stiles to call him Sourwolf with hideously obnoxious frequency.

Candidates were chosen based off of a complex matrix that included homelife, social life, personality, and general presence. They needed bravery and loyalty and strength of character, but they also needed people who wouldn't be missed and who wouldn't be noticed. Who wouldn't make this a game. Who would beable to fully realize that while being a werewolf would have lots of fun long-term perks and benefits, that they were essentially being enlisted for war. For the moment and for the foreseeable future, being a werewolf was not an endeavor taken to make life more enjoyable.

Stiles excellent wonderful judge of character was, for the most part, almost completely responsible for their 100% success rate. So far, every candidate he had chosen had been receptive to their offers (wildly enthusiastic, he would go so far as to say). A battalion of new wolves graced the pack. Things were still bleak, war was never a harbinger of good feelings, but they were looking up.  
_

Peter had contacted nearly every Pack in California and the Pacific Northwest. There were old families left, but they were few and far between, and they had grown comfortable in their homes. Like the Hales had for twenty years, they were enjoying times of peace and were relatively hunter-free. He grew more and more disheartened with each call. They were so ecstatic to hear from him, so glad to know that he was growing his pack, so nice that Derek had taken over as alpha and it always did suit him so. Oh but, you called because you needed help? Nope, sorry _old friend_, little bit busy. Little bit cozy at home. Little bit safe in my own territory and domain and no of course I'm not going to sign up to throw my pack away to their deaths up against the Argents. Good luck though. You'll need it. Yes well, _bye then_.

He was near the end of his patience  
_

Castiel knew that he would never be at full power again. He was still an angel but a portion of his grace had been lost in purgatory and his instincts told him he would never see it again. It was better this way though. He had been almighty, he had been an angel, and he had even lived as a human. So from a comparative standpoint, he still felt strong. With the amount of power he had he could keep himself and his family safe for the rest of eternity. He had "some juice left to spare" as Dean might say. Against humans his power would be plenty enough. But still he worried. He knew Gabriel had only very recently come back and was staying with Sam, but he wasn't sure if this was information he was permitted to reveal. As far as he was aware, they were holed up pretty tight and not a lot of people were in the know. Gabriel had told Castiel that they were in "the honeymoon phase". He wasn't sure if he would be able to call on him, how much power he had left, if he would even need to. As much as he longed to see his brother, he really hoped this was a fight he could handle by himself.

**Kanima 6  
No hell below us  
**The last thing he remembered was Gerard screaming like a lunatic; swearing that he would kill the kanima, and spurring his hunters into action. It had been a few hours since, and those were the last of his lucid memories, the ones that made sense, the ones from before this horrific melee began. And now here he was in the middle of the forest where he'd lived his entire life; bullets rained from seemingly all directions, dirt and leaves flew into the air, shrieks rended the sky. A bloodcurdling roar ripped through the night, followed by answering howls from far, far away. Nothing was going according to plan, and every instinct in Derek's body screamed at him to protect his mate above all else. Smaller urges told him to seek out his brother and his patriarch and his packmates as well, but none blared so loudly as the one to find Stiles and grab him up tight in his arms and run. Run until he found a place of silence and solitude and safety for them to collapse into.

In the end they had had a week and a half. A week and a half of frightening radio silence; preparing and training and waiting - the waiting was the worst. Help had meandered in over the course of a few days; a small caravan of hunters had arrived led by Bobby, Ellen, and Garth, and they set up camp in the woods surrounding the Hale house. A small pack of distant cousins from Washington had dropped everything to run down and help, their last alpha had been killed by the Argents the year before. The biggest surprise though had been when Sam and Gabriel appeared in the sitting room out of the blue. Castiel hadn't really been surprised, and that had led to a rather volatile conversation between him and Dean later that night that resulted in vigorous lovemaking. Stiles was happy to see his uncle Sam, and absolutely ecstatic about meeting Gabriel "Uncle on both sides apparently, kid."

Choosing and convincing Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and Danny (at Jackson's insistence) had been Stiles great achievement for the first few days. None of them had taken much prodding, and all of them were completely informed before they were allowed to make a choice. The Hales weren't running a circus here and they didn't need the equivalent of carnies in their pack. This shit was going to get done the right way, wartime be damned. And thanks to lots of pre-wolf counseling, everything went relatively smoothly after they were recruited and turned. There were several days of ridiculously intense training, but nothing they weren't prepared for and well informed of in advance. Everyone was pretty much cool beans.  
_

For some reason they were all expecting to dive right into shark week with a splash. It all started fairly calmly though, much like the quiet apprehensive vacuum of shifting pressures and temperatures in the air before a superstorm devastates the tropics. The wolves all heard it the moment several large cars rumbled into the forest, perfectly obeying the local 25mph speed limit even though the long driveway was technically private property. They reported bewilderedly that one of the SUVs was playing cool jazz. Another was playing a Ke$sha song. Party in the USA blasted so loudly from the lead car that even the humans could hear it.

From that car climbed out a sprightly old man. The rest stayed dormant, silent, a battlefield of sleeper agents giving off a tension that the wolves that the wolves could feel in the air. They felt like rabid dogs slavering to rush outside as one and fall upon him and be done with it, to rip him to shreds before he had the chance to work his influence and display his hatred. Everything in the house jumped about a foot and a half when the bell rang. Dean shook himself and braced himself to open the door. It swung wide and after a moment Gerard chuckled and pulled out a badge "I'm here representing the FBI" Dean responded with a hysterical whine of nervous laughter and Gerard just laughed harder.

The old man gave him another once over "It's been years boy, and I've gotta tell you I'm awful sorry to hear about your daddy and all that nasty hell and purgatory business. You really made yourself a legend before you dropped off the face of the earth" and that stung a little. Quite a bit - much like an icicle through his heart for a moment there really, but then Castiel was suddenly at his side with a hand on Dean's shoulder and a forced smile and a wide inviting gesture for Gerard to come in.

It was like déjà vu to two weeks ago as they led him into the sitting room. He chose the high-backed armchair without prompting, and settled himself down leisurely. A few moments later, Stiles and Jackson brought in a try of teas and biscuits. Gerard was all smiles, a perfectly gracious guest. He was a well oiled machine of social politeness, even when Peter and Derek brazenly walked in the room and sat on the sofa across from him. If there were eggshells on the floor they would have been crushed to dust. He beamed at them "Ah the young alpha and his patriarch, lovely home you have Hales. And especially well trained betas, from what I've seen of course."

Derek had to choke back a deep growl that longed to rip out from his chest – Jackson may be a Beta, but as his Mate Stiles was one of the Alpha Pair, hearing him referred to below his rank felt like a slap across the face. Of course though his restraint was effective, the look on his face betrayed him and his anger didn't go unnoticed. Gerard quirked an eyebrow "Hmm. Well I'll be frank Alpha Hale, I am here to destroy the Kanima. Though many would consider your kind an abomination, you and yours are at least sentient and nonviolent. The same cannot be said for the beast. It has killed and it will kill again. If you surrender it, we will take it off of your hands and leave peaceably." His words were still laced with cheery grins and jaunty hand gestures, and Dean wondered to himself how long he had had to practice those to make them perfect.

Peter cleared his throat delicately "If you'll allow me to speak for my Alpha, I would be glad to inform you that the Kanima has already been taken care of. What causes the mutation is a deep emotional block. The Angel Castiel, our pack's good friend and Dean Winchester's husband, helped cure the beast. He now runs as a wolf in our pack. The Kanima is no more." There was silence but for the gentle clinking of a spoon on china, slowly stirring a cup of tea.

Gerard smiled into his cup and took a long sip, tongue poking out slightly as he lowered the cup back onto its saucer. Mouth turned down at one corner, his eyes spoke volumes of grandfatherly disappointment "As you lay dying, I'd like you to remember that in this moment you denied the mercy you were offered" and in a flash he was standing; his gun was out and there were three bullets in Derek's chest and another two in Peter's. Stiles' and the betas' screams rang out from the kitchen, hearing the attack and feeling blazing pain and rage through the pack bonds.

Gerard cocked his head towards the other room "Well doesn't this all just keep getting curiouser and curiouser," his smile dissolved from his face "No matter, you all die today" and he stormed out of the living room and out of the house. Dean and Castiel were shellshocked for a moment, and Stiles ran in, falling to his knees at Derek's feet, the rest of the pack close on his heels. The sitting room stunk of fear, and it stayed even as the bullets pushed out of their entry wounds. The two drew ragged breaths, and the moment he began to heal, Derek perked up and fell back into leadership mode "We have to get everyone out. _Now_. If Gerard left it means that they're planning an attack that'll effect everyone in here. They might be explosives or gas or fire" He and Peter locked eyes and shuddered. Taking no extra time, they rose to their feet and gathered everyone to herd them out the back door. They had only barely moved quickly enough as it was, and the house burst into flames behind them the moment after the last of wolf crossed the threshold into the open forest. Derek sank to his knees in the dirt, staring up at his home burning once again.

Stiles grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him up, failing. He pushed and pushed his lover, turning his head to face him "Everyone you love is here, and alive and okay, but right now we've gotta go. We didn't plan for this; we have to run from here before they find us." Wolf ears popped up on the top of Derek's head and he pressed his nose into Stiles' belly, breathing deeply for a moment and wrapping his arms around his waist. Then he was up, moving from beta to beta and then to the hunters, checking for injuries.

He was about to shift his face back to normal, but then stopped himself "Wolves, bring out your ears and nose. We're going to start moving as far from here as we can and we need as many advantages as we can get. Be alert. Constantly. When we face these bastards it's going to be on our terms, but for now we need to get away," and he took his mate's hand and pressed his lips to it "You lead and I'll guard." They shared an embrace, and then separated. Stiles jogged to the front of the pack and began giving tactical orders, and then took off, wolves and hunters and family and Derek behind him. And they followed, trusting him implicitly.  
_

Stiles panted heavily, conflict had run heavy through his mind about the safety in returning to the old hunting cabin deep in the woods. There was always a chance that the hunters would know intimate details of the terrain, but this was mostly a Hale family secret, little and secluded and private, and in the end that was where he found himself leading the pack. Just that thought brought him a rush of joy and pride; he knew Derek loved him and respected his opinions, but the value he laid upon Stiles' judgment always felt intimate and beautiful, and he treasured it. The real growth of the pack may have only started a week ago, but it was still a pack that he had been subconsciously a member of since before he even knew about wolves, it was more a part of him than almost anything else in his life. Having useful pack-related skills and responsibilities made him feel like maybe, finally, he was proving that he could take care of his lover, that he could be the hero.  
_

Guerilla warfare was in full effect, and they had been running assaults on the hunter base for hours, all at random times and with new combinations of pack members. Every time they attacked several were eliminated, they struck like lightning and they got out almost before anyone even knew they had been there at all. Sam, Dean, Bobby, and Stiles had set up sniping blinds in the surrounding wilderness and were working on building up a slower body count, hitting far enough in between so as to not make their locations apparent. Slowly but surely the hunter forces were dwindling; their army of twenty was down to eight, and morale on their side was rapidly becoming nonexistent.

But they still had no idea what Gerard had up his sleeve – he was letting his men be shot down like fish in a barrel. The likelihood that they weren't already knee-deep in whatever trap he had planned was unfavorably low. Every one of them knew it to be true, and though their barrages of the hunter base were wild and courageous, fear plagued the depths of their hearts.

They were almost invisible as they made their way through the forest, absolutely silent, body movements flowing like liquid metal, strong and graceful and completely alert, and _fast_. Derek and Peter led all of the betas in for a final assault. They were going in as one and they were taking out all of them. This was going to end on their terms. They drew closer and closer to the clearing; 100 yards, 50, 10, and then they pounced. As one they attacked, each wolf ripping into the neck of a hunter, except for Derek. The instant he moved towards Gerard, the old man fired. Time seemed to slow, he could see the bullets flying toward his chest, coming so close, too close, there was no way he'd be able to get out of the way.

And then he was being tugged out of the way and spun around, he fell unceremoniously on his ass, looking up into his Uncle's face. Peter smiled at him and blinked rapidly, a trail of blood starting to drip from the corner of his mouth. In a flash he had spun back around to face Gerard "You really think I'm going to let you harm a hair on his head? You may think you're old, but you're like a child to me, a foolish ignorant child. You couldn't learn to be a decent human being if you tried, it's the people like you that make our species enemies." And three more gunshots rang through the air, bringing everthing to a halt.

This time when Peter fell he didn't get back up. Derek crawled over to where he lay, pulling him into his lap and pressing his hands over Peter's back, fingers tracing over the bullet holes and the smoke rising from the entry wounds – it was wolfsbane, of course it was wolfsbane. He felt his rage overtake him. Peter's heartbeat was so slow, so faint that he could barely hear it.

As Gerard stepped nearer, Derek felt his hands shaking. The patronizing grin on his face made him want to do so much worse than rip his face off. The old man let out a vicious bark of laughter and stomped his foot down onto Peter's chest "Oh look at that angry little wolfy face of yours. I bet you thought your patriarch was immortal. Newsflash boy, everything dies. Some things take a little more effort, but _All. Things. Die_. Things never would have gotten to this point had you given me the Kanima. This is your fault. Your Uncle's death is your fault, and when I shoot your handsome little mate, it's going to be your fault too" he cackled, and never had he sounded more insane. Derek felt his fangs elongating and with a shake of his head he was in his beta form. The moment he shifted everything changed, and he was so startled that it took him a moment to try and cover his surprise, because he heard it not so faintly as it had been - Peter's heartbeat.

Once again Gerard saw through the emotion he had tried desperately to hide, and glanced down, feeling Peter's chest move with the force of an inhalation of breath "No, no I KILLED YOU, WOLF" Peter's grin was feral and the old man panicked, scrambling backwards and reaching for his great cleaving sword. But Peter was faster, darting forward on his belly and grabbing Gerard's ankle, pulling him to the ground and breaking his leg. A muffled scream erupted from his chest and he struggled to get away. In an instant he was on his feet, dragging Gerard to the edge of the clearing by his broken leg, stringing him upside down in one of the trees.

He reached for the handgun in the old man's jacket, making sure to jostle his body as much as possible, relishing in the small groans that escaped from his prisoner. He pocketed several bullets for later on, and called everyone into the clearing. They gathered round and he smileed gently "I hope I didn't worry you all too much. This is our oppressor, the man that tried to decimate our pack on a whim and some misinformation. Now this man is particularly famous for a certain style of werewolf execution, can anyone tell me what he does?"

"He cuts them in half while they're upside down so that their entrails spill out onto the ground" Erica called out.

Peter's grin was wild and deadly "That's a smart girl. They cut them in half. _While they're upside down._ Now can anyone guess what this monster's sentence is going to be?" He looked around at the pack, eyebrows raised and head cocked at a jaunty angle.

Identical grins spread across the wolves' faces, and though the humans seemed uneasy they made no protest. Stiles stepped forward, looking the epitome of furious "We're gonna cut this bastard to pieces, and no one's ever going to see or hear from him ever again. It's going to be a bloodbath really, because let's be honest, he deserves it. His remains will be salted and burned, and the ashes spread. When his family asks we'll tell them that there's no body, and they won't care because they wanted him dead almost more than we did" he stepped closer to the man, still wriggling in his prone position "You know, they came to see us. They told us you were coming. They knew we were going to kill you. They _gave us their blessing_. They won't care that you're dead, you'll just be the crazy old zealot that they ended up not having to waste a mercybullet on" he was starting to get worked up, and Derek grabbed his shoulders, moving for the first time since Peter had been shot, pulling his lover backwards into his chest, wrapping his arms around him. He dragged them back a few feet and nodded at Peter.

With an air of pure and justified authority, he picked up the heavy blade "I hope this hurts so fucking bad" he whispered, and ran the saber ran through Gerard's torso, ripping a jagged cut across it, sending his head and upper chest crashing to the ground. As his body was rended in half, his screams rang out and it took a moment after for the life to fade from him completely. It was the most disgusting bloody mess imaginable, but none of them spoke. Pools of gore splashed on the forest floor and the spray had hit them all at face height, leaving splatters. Gerard's lifeless body was swimming in its own fluids. And then he was dead, and it didn't feel glorious or righteous or wonderful, it just felt like they had a gruesome mass-murder scene to clean up. A really, really sticky one.  
_

Derek kept Stiles in his arms holding onto him and sobbing into his shoulder loudly, not bothering to hide his tears or his emotions, fraying at the seams and needing his anchor now more than ever. Everyone avoided them as they crept off to a secluded area just outside the edge of the clearing, and sat heavily as one upon a fallen stump, crying together, foreheads pressed together, hands holding fast. Stiles rasped out a wet gasp of breath "I saw him raise his gun towards you and I felt my world collapsing around me. And then now I hate myself for being glad that Peter took those bullets for you. I'm so glad that he did and _I hate_ myself for it. How can I ever look him in the eye again?"

"You don't have to worry about that, Stiles" came Peter's soft voice. He melted out of the trees and sat with them on the stump, laying his hand on top of his nephew's shoulder "I remember what having a mate feels like. If Nessa were still alive and our situations were reversed, I'd feel the exact same way" Stiles seemed lost for words, and lurched forward to engulf Peter in a crushing hug. Derek pressed his hand into Peter's back, as if to remind himself that the bullet wounds were real and that they were his fault, all his fault.

He tried to hold it back in, but it exploded forth from him like his earlier rush of uncontrollable emotion "_Why did you take the bullets for me?_ I can't- I mean I would understand if it were Scott, he's like your son. But I'm your alpha; it's my job to protect all of you. I would have healed from those wounds better and…I thought you were dead, Peter. I thought…" his head fell to his hands and he missed the shocked heartbroken look on his uncle's face. Stiles made to leave but they both gestured for him to stay, and so he sat by Derek's feet with his head on his knee, gently stroking his leg. Peter sighed heavily while Derek sniffed and tried to calm himself "I can't believe I'm asking you this but, why would you think that I see Scott as a son and not you, Derek? What could have possibly put that horrid thought into your head? Was it something I did, some way that I treated you? Did I treat you differently and not even realize?" Derek took in a gasp of air so fast it became a hiccup and he had to pause for a moment. Stiles kept rubbing his leg and Peter waited patiently.

He ran his hands through his hair, and then rested them on top of his mate's head, sighing deeply "When we escaped the fire I was twenty years old. Even though I was still a child by our customs and anatomy, in the world surrounding us I was an adult, and I started to see myself as one. Scott was still a baby, you raised him from infancy. He probably sees you more as a dad than anything else, even if he calls you uncle. But I guess I never stopped seeing myself as your nephew. I didn't know I was allowed to. I didn't want to act like I was trying to replace the pups you lost" He looked up into Peter's face. Tears streamed thickly down it and snot was beginning to run from his nose, he inhaled deeply and placed a hand to his chest "I can't believe I failed you so badly as a guardian. My one job was to make you feel unconditionally loved and I didn't even come close did I? I always saw you as my own but apparently I didn't show it enough to get the message across"

Derek felt Stiles tugging at his pantslegs, and he turned his attention to him. His voice was timid and melancholic when he asked "Is this my fault?"  
Derek's eyebrows shot up, "What-"  
"When I was little. In kindergarten and all through elementary, you were always there. During school, after school, even while I was playing with Scott. Did raising me make you forget that you were still a child yourself?"

Derek was floored. He had found his mate so early in his life, and had let the boy become his entire world. He would never regret it, but maybe it had done things to his mental state that he never could have predicted. He ruffled his lover's buzzcut "Just because that may be so doesn't mean you aren't still the best thing that's ever happened to me. I still had Peter and Scott, but it was you that healed me after I lost almost everything. Maybe that changed how I saw the world, but having you in my life could never be something that caused me harm" Derek looked down at the ground and smiled, mind flashing with images from the many years of Stiles' childhood they had spent together.

He sighed and called the betas from the clearing. They came hesitantly and gathered around the stump, and he looked them over "I'm proud of every single one of you. We faced an enemy today that threatened to break our pack, and we defeated it. And I have something to tell you all. These few weeks have been hectic. Traumatic and horrific and violent and bloody. You need to know that that's not how this pack normally runs. We live a peaceful life in these woods, and these woods will always be home to us. The fire that devastated our house was tragic, but we will rebuild. There will always be a place for you in our home if you need it."

And they all sat together in the woods, and they talked about the past and the future and their dreams, and in that afternoon, in that hour, they became a true pack. They learned to care for one another and more importantly they learned to trust one another. They had faced threat of death and trauma and anguish together. The sun shone brightly through the trees, every leaf and branch dappled with gold. If they listened hard enough they could hear the stream trickle a few miles away, and at one point a deer came to it and drank.

When they returned to the house they found that the fire had been put out long before it could do more than some surface damage. And when the house was almost entirely unscathed, they had an inkling that there was a certain pair of angels deserving of thanks. They wouldn't have to rebuild much after all. It took a while, but the house once again rang with happy shouts and laughter.

They were safe and they were a family. Things were looking up.


	8. the first howl-el

Derek seethed. He drank his cocoa through his peppermint candy-straw and he seethed furiously. Now don't mistake the reason for his anger; he wore his thick fuzzy green mistletoe and holly themed sweater, his reindeer ear toque, his red and white striped flannel sleep pants, and his jinglebell-toe elf slippers, with pride. He really did. The outfit wouldn't have been his first choice if he were being brutally honest, but nothing made Stiles happier than the holidays and in the Winchester house that meant an explosion of festivity and joy and glitter. _So much glitter._

Stiles' Christmas morning garb was only slightly more garish, his sweater bore a much wilder pattern that consisted of diagonal rows of contrasting Christmas ornaments and his flannels were bright red with little flying sleighs on them. So if he referred to his getup as the battle gear in his head, it was from a place of caring. Seeing him in his Christmas pajamas made Stiles happy, and making his mate happy made Derek happy. So that was that. This wasn't even their first Christmas together, it had actually been the norm for them long before their relationship took it's romantic turn; seeing grouchy Derek in flamboyant holiday clothing had always made little Stiles absolutely overjoyed. So though he may have lovingly grumped about it on occasion, the holidays with his mate really did lift his spirits to wonderful places.

What enraged him though, and what he would most definitely not be putting up with for much longer, was Jackson's asshole commentary on every single thing Christmas. Though he had made his peace with Scott and Stiles, Derek didn't think anything would ever fully cure his cynical douchebag streak that ran through him. And right now he wasn't just blasting the low-level bitchiness that was the constant for him, here at the Winchester home where the family was hosting the entire pack out of the goodness of their hearts, feeding and entertaining and socializing with, he was going far out of his way to insult everything that Stiles loved about the season. Coming downstairs he had known to expect a ruckus about their pajamas, but Jackson had dragged it out for too damn long, practically beating it into the ground to the point where he was the only one laughing.

He could tell he wasn't the only one grating their teeth to avoid causing a scene on Christmas morning, and he was glad that at least Jackson was alone in making an ass of himself. Furious though he was, he was willing to let it all go; keep himself zen like Stiles would always tell him. He was happy to just ignore the negativity, hold his lover close while they drank cocoa and ate snowman pancakes and opened presents together with the pack and Stiles' family. He and everyone else were doing a pretty spectacular job of ignoring the stream of shit that Jackson spewed, until he dropped the bomb that left the room silent. Stiles had dusted the top of his snowman pancake with confectioner's sugar, and did the same for Derek's, getting a little on his nose. With an adorable grin on his face, he leaned over and delicately licked it off, pressing a kiss to Derek's nose afterwards. Jackson's eyes rolled so hard it was a miracle they remained firmly set in their sockets, and he muttered to himself "god could you be any more queer?"

Derek's growl almost shook the house, and he was ready to pounce. He wasn't expecting Castiel to get there first. Cas had on holiday themed pajamas remarkably similar to Stiles', and the image of him slamming Jackson into the kitchen wall and screaming into his face was definitely a mind-boggling juxtaposition. He held the boy up five inches off the ground by his collar "What did you call my son?"

Jackson was thoroughly shamed and he had immediately dissolved into a stammering mess he always became during interactions with the angel "Look I didn't mean it like that. I'm not a homophobe - Danny is my best friend. I meant weird. Your kid is weird" Cas slammed him into the wall again and Dean sauntered over and jabbed a finger into his chest "Well that may be true Jackson, but I think that's _exactly_ how you meant it. You may be tolerant but you've been nasty to my son all day and now you're using his sexuality to try and hurt him" he glanced at his husband "Baby, I think he needs to hear the Jesus story" Cas nodded and let Jackson down, "You're right dean. I think they should all hear it. Follow me into the living room children, I have a story to tell you" and he directed them all into the other room, sitting in the lone armchair and waiting until everyone was settled down on the floor around him.

He looked at his son and smiled "I know Stiles knows this story, and my husband does as well, but it's not one I get to tell very often. You see children, it's easy to forget by looking at me that I am that much different from any other man. Without knowing, one may look upon me and not know that I have walked this planet since the day it was hewn, that I was there watching the rocks that formed it as they floated through space, that I remember the dawn of time when the only things in existence was night and day and God and all the other angels he had created. I was there and I remember, and one of my favorite things to remember is the life of Christ. There was none of that "son of" business; Christ was god on the earth as a man. Christ was and still is one of the most beautiful things I have ever laid my eyes upon. As a man it was easy to realize he was of the divine simply from his outer appearance, on occasion he glowed faintly, an unmistakable sign to anyone in the know. But when he opened his mouth it was clear to the world. The words he preached were of love, acceptance, tolerance, compassion, kindness. There was none that Christ looked down upon; not even the hideously diseased and deformed, not even the homosexuals, not even the polytheists, not even the criminals, not even those that turned against him and killed him. And when you say that you don't bear hate in your heart Jackson, you must remember that the words you say offhandedly are the most likely to ring with truth. Even if you accept and love your friend, you would not instinctively show my son that same tolerance, and you show it only because you are subjugated to Derek. It is surely a harsh revelation to hear, but Jesus Christ would be ashamed of you Jackson. He would be disappointed to know not only of your intolerance but of your cruelty. You may still harbor dislike towards my son, but this is not a place where you may flaunt and provoke. This is his home and quite frankly we should have called you on your disrespect much earlier before it fell to this. No one here would dare speak a word about your painful emotional ordeals, Now apologize to my child and tell him why you have picked on him all day. I can see the reason in your heart, but you must say it"

Jackson had grown redder in the face during Cas' speech, and now he squirmed in his spot, shaking his head almost imperceptibly. The angel leveled him with a heavy glare, but his face softened and he nodded gently. A ragged exhale escaped from his mouth and he swiveled to face Stiles "Look Winchester, I'm sorry I called you queer and I'm sorry I've been a dick all day. I'm not here because I'm pack…I'm here because I can't stand to spend the holidays with my family because I have attachment and self-confidence issues and an inferiority complex because I'm adopted and I get mean on Christmas and I'm sorry I was here to ruin a day you obviously care about a lot." He glanced back at Cas "Can I just leave now?"

He was surprised when he felt stiles' warm hand still his arm, and he looked up into slightly miffed but compassionate honey brown eyes "You don't have to bolt just because you finally got your feelings off your chest you great big bag of dicks" his uncle let out a bark of laughter that went ignored "I think you seem to be missing a glaring fact here Jackson. You're literally in a room full of other people who are either adopted or have no parents. Isaac's family is dead, Scott and Derek are adopted because their families are dead, _I'm_ adopted. Even if we all found families that love us and give us everything we could ever need, it doesn't mean that it still isn't there, that curiosity and that feeling of being a little bit different. And can you even imagine? Derek was our age when he lost his parents, but he was basically a child in wolf years. Imagine staying youthful for years bonding with your family and still having that innocent juvenile view of them and losing them. You don't even want to know the kind of life my dad and uncle Sam have had. You just don't. And my dad and Uncle Gabriel? They're literally children of heaven. They basically had to sit through one of the most devastating family feuds to ever exist in the history of the universe. But we're okay all because we talk about our problems and we don't let each other stew and build up and get broken on the inside. We're basically a great big family of orphans and we're here living together and you're one of us now Jackson so you don't get to use that excuse, you don't get to try and play that card. Okay?" he shoved the other boy's shoulder "Okay?"

When he saw tears gathering at the boy's eye corners and heard little breaths coming in fast, he launched himself forward to capture Jackson in a hug. A single sob escaped and then he was pushed away. But the boy had a small smile on his face "Thanks Winchester" and though the pack was amazed that Stiles had come out of the encounter unscathed, they noticed the difference in the following weeks when Jackson was markedly less of a giant douchenozzle, and actually went the slightest bit out of his way on occasion to be nice to Stiles. It was alarming and strange at first, but the gestures were genuine, and they felt good.

For the rest of the day Jackson was very subdued, and he was left by everyone mostly to his own devices, participating but still deep in thought and somewhat far away. They opened presents and drank cocoa and watched an endless stream of Christmas movies, and after the mini-meltdown the day was filled with laughter.

After a huge dinner, Peter and Scott and the betas headed back to the Hale Estate. Sam and Gabriel went home to the little house they had bought a few blocks over. Dean and Cas were out on a walk through the neighborhood to look at decorations. For a while at least, Stiles and Derek had the house to themselves, and though the temptation was incredibly strong they were mostly behaving. Hands wandered like especially advanturous pilgrims and kisses were pressed heavily and wetly to decidedly non-lip areas. It was dark in Stiles' room except for a string of Christmas lights decorating the headboard of the bed, it was plenty of light to see by. Derek laid spread out half on top of his mate while they moved together, his thigh rubbing steadily between Stiles' legs.

He groaned and his head fell to his lover's chest letting out a low chuckle "blocked again - sounds like your dads are home" he rolled over onto his back and pulled Stiles up onto him, wrapping arms tight around him and pressing his nose into his neck "do you really get upset thinking about being adopted?" there was a moment of quiet confusion, and then he barked out a short laugh rolling so they were face to face "Of course not sourwolf. I have the best family in the universe and that's been confirmed by two angels who have lived to see it all. It was what Jackson needed to hear. But at the same time I mean...I didn't _lie_ to him. I'm adopted and it's not a really big deal at all to me, but it's huge to him. My family is perfect and I can't imagine ever finding out anything that would make me not want to be a part of it, but when people are suffering and beligerent and you need them to listen to you, you have to let them know how many other others have gone through the same thing. He may not have the right to act like an ass the way he does, but I do feel for him sometimes"

He leaned forward to boop his nose into Derek's "This is really the last thing I want to be discussing though. Think you could get that big wolfy nose back to my neck? That seriously felt awesome" and Derek complied, but also proceeded to tickle all the way up his side and they fell into laughter, and fell asleep smiling. It was a wonderful Christmas. Next year they'd have to get Cas and Gabriel to find a way to make meeting Jesus work. That kinda had to happen - the dude sounded _rad_.


	9. There And Back Again

**let me tell you friend, if you read this in either jensen's or misha's voice, i guarantee it's be eight billion times more painful :D**

* * *

As his eyes fluttered open and he took in his surroundings, Stiles sucked in a breath of what may have been the sweetest purest balmiest air he'd ever had the privilege to breathe. That in and of itself took him down a different mental path of curiosity about altitude and smog density for a moment before he heard a gentle cough and his attention snapped back to focus. There were two nervous but happy people sitting above him, a good looking couple. The woman had tears wobbling at the corner of her eyes, threatening at any moment to careen down her face, and the man was gripping her hand tightly.

"Sooo...I'd be correct in assuming I'm not in Beacon Hills any more?" they shared a shifty look with each other before the woman timidly answered him "Well dear I hate to consider whatever circumstances brought you here but, you would be correct. You're not exactly in a place you've ever been before either" The man huffed out a small laugh "What your mother is pussyfooting around trying to say son, is that you're dead. And you're in heaven with us. Surprise"  
_

What could have been either galaxies or merely a small dimensional twist away, Derek Hale sank heavily to his knees, cradling Stiles' lifeless body close to him. Breathing in the lingering scent of him before it was gone, pressing his face into limp hair, clutching at cold bloodied clothing. The pack shifted anxiously around him, unsure of what to do or say. Scott had long since gone into his beta state and was whining loudly at his brother's side. Peter stood directly behind his nephew, thumb hovering over the send button of his phone. He didn't want to have to be the one to make that call, and he hoped that if he just waited long enough Castiel would be here without him having to be the one to say those words out loud.

It turned out that he really didn't have to wait that long at all. An explosion of light ripped through the darkness of the night and the thickness of the rain in the air, illuminating the ground and the pack for just one horrible moment. If Castiel's face was a study in mourning, Dean's was the opposite. Clearly confused and unaware - so terribly unaware - he whirled around, looking for the source of conflict. His gaze fell on his son and in the hollow of his eyes the world fractured. His screams rang out and his sobs scattered across the muddy field. Like Orpheus grieving in the woods, so too did the wolves and the angels alongside him.  
_

He didn't remember coming home or even falling asleep, but when he woke he was alone in his bed. Cas had probably carried him. He recalled every detail of the night before vividly, painfully. He made his way downstairs to find his His brother waiting for him in the kitchen. He distantly heard bits and pieces of Cas and Gabe and Peter talking in the living room. He paid them no mind, and collapsed into the huge embrace that came crashing lovingly around him. The tears came again, and he made no efforts to stop them. He felt Sam crying as well, and took a moment to think back over his life. Had he felt this way when Jo and Ellen died, when Bobby died, when his own father died? He had felt this way before when his brother had died, when Castiel had died. And yet this was deeper and more paralyzing than even those

He didn't need to have super ears or a juiced up nose to instinctively know that the pack was curled around Derek on Stiles' bed. Anger welled up from a small withered part of him that still feared and hated that which lurked in the night. The logical part of his mind battled the cruel and stubborn corner that insisted that the love between mates had no right to be stronger than the love between family, while the sappy romcom wrinkle of his brain insisted that he himself was eternally bonded to a supernatural being and therefore had no right to minimize the alpha's attachment to his son. He had to shake himself; Derek was a part of their family, the pack was a part of their family. He was in mourning, but he didn't need to be a nasty little bitch about it. The man was practically his son-in-law.

no, scratch that, _had been_ practically his son-in-law.

He wondered idly if Derek felt more pain now than he had when the fire uprooted and destroyed his world. The burden of those who dealt with insurmountable pain, was that it would most assuredly strike twice, or in his case and Derek's case as well, again and again until it wore them down to ashy piles of almost nothing. Stiles would be calling him a drama queen right about now if he could see into his mind. The thought nearly brought him to laughter, but his body instead chose to produce more tears.  
_

They sat tear-stained at the table, a jittery silence cloaking them. Derek clutched at his uncle's shoulder, pathetically wrecked and barely able to sit up straight. Everyone staunchly avoided his aimless gaze. A niggling aversion to the sheer tragic awkwardness of it all made Castiel almost wish his brother would say something facetiously mischievous to clear the air. He cleared his throat and laid his hand gently on Dean's "Gabriel and I still have access to heaven, and I know he's there because my baby's still got one of the purest souls I've ever seen. However, whether or not we can bring Stiles here from there is uncertain at best. If nothing else, we'll be able to see him and pass on messages. We can go now or we can wait, but the longer he's there the more immersed in the essence of heaven he'll become - the more disinclined he'll be to leave."

The wolves sucked in a sharp breath at that. Derek focused his care-bear stare on Cas in full force, when he spoke his voice was ragged "What happens if you get there and he doesn't want to come back to us?"

"Then I'll try again every day until he does" and in that very moment he disappears.  
_

There was a slow heavy breeze in the air, hot and almost sticky, and Stiles felt like wilting. It was a warm wet heat and it was comforting. He'd been here for who knows how long on patio overlooking a wide river, eating bignets and sipping sweet tea with his- with _John_ and _Elzbieta_. Such lovely people, so very kind and loving and so determined to recount to him every detail of his infant-hood they could remember from before they'd been horrifically slain. As wonderful as it all is, it doesn't feel like it's something he'd really want in _his_ heaven, if that's where they really are. He knows exactly who and what and where he'd choose to spend eternity if it were up to him, but for the life of him he can't bring himself to ask. It feels nice, not perfect and not _his_ per se, but nice.

Quite frankly, though he would never say it out loud, he was downright overjoyed when his dad burst in through the tall white french doors that lead into the side of the house. He nearly knocked over his chair in his haste to get to him. "DAD" "Stiles"

Later he'd tell gossipy angels to stuff it, because apparently it was the go-to loving moment of 2013 that no one would ever forget, and there had been some kind of prophesy about it on a tablet somewhere, something about the adopted child of one who still wore his grace reuniting in heaven and choosing love over the divine, he couldn't really be bothered to remember because_ hey his dad was standing right in front of him_.

Stiles whispered in his ear "Thank god what took you so long" Cas stared down at him in amazement "Son, it's only been a day since you- since you died"

Stiles picked his chair back up and slumped into it heavily "So I really did-" he can't bring himself to say it, and resorts to making a juvenile line across his neck. Castiel rolls his eyes and collapses into the chair next to him, John and Elzbieta having disappeared soon after his arrival. He shifted slightly in his chair, brushing his hand across the top of Stiles' head "So you met them. What did you think, good enough to stay?"

His son looks at him like he's raving "I hope this isn't your way of telling me I need to get out of the nest, because I can guarantee that sticking me with my bio-parents may actually be something I would resent your for for the rest of eternity" Castiel doesn't even bother responding. He raises an eyebrow and Stiles practically _gibbers _

"I mean don't get me wrong, nice people. Real nice. Apparently this is where she grew up with her parents and where they wanted to move back to eventually. But a couple of friendly faces doesn't mean I want to stay here. Jeeze, I'd rather have you and dad and the pack for the rest of my natural life than ever be able to come back here. D-don't give me that look you know I'm telling the truth. I like it but it's...it's too quiet here. It's too peaceful. There's not enough going on"

Cas hems and haws, unsure whether to tell him- no. He can't let emotions get involved, _has_ to tell him "Stiles this isn't your heaven. When you died your parents brought you here to their shared heaven. This is what their afterlives are like. Yours can be whatever you want. It could even have memories of us and the pack. But you have to know, Derek and the rest of the wolves, they'll never end up here. They're destined for purgatory, the resting place for all of the children of Eve. You can live within memories here, but on Earth you could live a whole life's worth of memories. After you're both dead, there's a chance you'll never really see each other again. Not here anyways."

They held each others' gazes. The silence between them was long, Stiles huffed out a slightly wheezing cough. "Hypothetically speaking, how long could you and uncle Gabe keep three humans and eight werewolves alive for, absolute maximum"

Castiel thinks he may never have smiled wider in his life  
_

He didn't really want to know where his body had been while he'd vacated it. It felt warm and whole and perfectly not riddled with claw holes or gouges, which was a definite plus cause y'know _living _was kinda his goal from now on. The important thing wasn't really that he was back in his body, well it was actually, but that he was back amongst the people he cared most about. He wasn't sure who was hugging him tighter, Derek or his Dad, it seemed like they may have been competing. That was fine with him, he was the hug _master_. Hugs were kinda his supernatural ability. As he collapsed back into a pile of pack and family, he knew he'd made the right decision.


	10. reference & timeline

**This guide, though useful, is not entirely necessary to read in order to enjoy the fic. You should feel free to skip past it, or only use it to refer back to. **

**points of importance for this verse:**

**The way wolves age:** this is a very slow process. Derek is actually 37 years old in the present time of this fic, but he still has the physique of a 22 year old, and the mentality of a teenager. For all intents and purposes he is still relatively young. Relatively Scott, 19 in present time, could almost be considered a young child, a preteen in wolf terms. And yes Peter, relative to our perspective of geological time, is obscenely old.

**More wolf physiology: **in this verse werewolves have three states they can enter. All werewolves regardless of rank can transform into either a hybrid state where they are mostly human, or a full wolf state where they take the shape of actual large wolves. Alphas can take the form of a huge beastly creature, very similar to what we saw of Peter on the show.

**My take on wolf packs:** in this verse is that they are currently a lot like large old money families, but come from roots that had them running in mostly nomadic tribes. Because they live so long the traditions of having family heirarchy roles is still ingrained. Patriarch and Matriarch are figures separate from alpha and other leadership roles, but are equally important and respected. As an independent patriarch, Peter could take in Derek and Scott on his own and not had to have sought out another pack. This is what he did.

**Leadership:** This is explained later on in one of the ficlets, but the way that Alphas and Patriarchs interact is that they are supposed to be siblings. The elder becomes alpha when they reach maturity at 40 years old, and then turns over the role of alpha to their younger sibling when that wolf reaches maturity. After they have handed over authority, the elder become their younger sibling's patriarch. The cycle continues infinitely, and works similarly to checks and balances. Some packs ignore this traditional method, but the Hale pack has followed it for many generations.

**SPN tie in:** I'm going on the wild assumption that Dean and Cas return safely and expediently from purgatory, and then disregarding any possible plot after that. According to show information, Dean was 33 in 2012 at the end of season 7. All I did for that was add a year and then push the entire supernatural plotline back 18 years. So Dean and Cas were thrust into Purgatory in 1994 and then after returning, found Stiles a year later.

**timeline:**

**1993**

Melissa McCall _(65)_ and her husband (Peter's brother who will probably never be mentioned) have Scott. He is formerly baptized into to the pack, and his brother Derek _(18)_ is assigned his guardian/companion

Dean _(32)_ and Castiel _(age unknown but most likely infinite)_ are thrust into Purgatory

**1994**

Dean _(33)_ and Castiel escape purgatory and begin hunting, occasionally with Sam (29) and Bobby (age unknown), but most often on their own. They are in a romantic sexual relationship.

**1995**

Dean _(34)_ and Castiel find Vyacheslav Stilinski _(infant)_ during a job, orphaned by a monster (in hummelstilinski's original i believe it was a ghoul)

Scott _(2)_ and Derek _(20)_ are orphaned by a devastating house fire, and are taken in by their Uncle Peter _(146)_ their pack's former patriarch (different from being the alpha)

Kate Argent _(mid thirties)_ was responsible for the fire (but she did it as an act of outright war and malice rather than by playing seductress games)

**2000**

Vyacheslav _(5)_ and Scott _(8)_ start kindergarten together. Scott nicknames him Stiles

Scott starts kindergarten so late because he is very small and still weak (he has asthma even though he is a born wolf in this verse), so Peter wanted to keep him home a few extra years

Derek _(25)_ is attending high school as a junior to watch over his brother (the school is K-12), and because he can still easily pass as being that age (for a wolf, he is technically still a teenager until he is mid forties)

Dean _(39)_ and Chris Argent _(39)_ broker a friendly nonviolence treaty with Peter Hale _(151)_

**2010**

Derek _(35)_ and Stiles _(15)_ begin a fledgling romance

Dean _(49)_ misspeaks during a routine inspection, and Derek _(35)_ attacks him

Castiel _(age unknown)_ discreetly erases this from Dean's memory

**2012 - Present**

Stiles _(17 and a junior in hs)_ and Derek _(37)_ are dating

Derek and Scott _(19)_ still are living with their Uncle Peter _(163)_

Derek bites Jackson_ (17) _in an attempt to grow his pack, and this results in him becoming the Kanima. This draws the attention of the Argents, and several skirmishes occur within Beacon Hills due to hostilities


End file.
